Best Enemies

Hanna

The taxi comes and we all file in, our faces pale and drawn with horror. Rubi mutters a few words and directions, we thought of three possible locations where Nutmeg could be. 

 First the old soap establishment, second the abandoned Kempleton Castle and finally the amusement park. The last one was Felix's idea and I am sure he just wanted to have some fun because he basically tackled us to the ground fighting for his suggestion. 

 We decided that the soap establishment is too far away so that leaves the castle. The taxi skids around the busy traffic and barely makes it on the corners. My fists are white and my nails are digging into the palms of my hands that are now caked in sweat and dirt. I slowly unravel my hands and little half-moons have been imprinted from where my nails were. I close my eyes as the car comes to a stop and the doors open. 

 Fresh air floods in, smells like rain, grass and wet earth. The countryside is where my parents used to take Nutmeg and I since we were 7. In spring we would run across the fields picking daisies and send lambs scattering. The next year, after the daffodils had faded to dregs and the sun had disappeared behind the winter clouds Nutmeg and I would snuggle together under the blankets watching old movies, such as Lady and the Tramp, with steaming mugs of chai tea and what we would call our "daily chocolate biscuit".  In summers we would run with towels over shoulders and our feet burning on the brown grass, all the way down to the beach. The rocks that encased our hidden paradise were our protectors and the little caves in the cliffs were filled with turquoise water and smoothly shaped rocks, "magic", Nutmeg called it. 

 Now the sky is clear and the trees are red. We never came in autumn. It was too depressing to see the trees lose their leaves. The stressful tension that was captured in the air and hearing the thunder break the pressure like a crack of glass. Peter grabs my hand and gives it an encouraging squeeze. The dark stone building looms up above us and fades in with the sky overhead. The stone had cracked in some places and vines and tendrils had wiggled their way up the pillars on each side. The doors look like they have been slowly rotting throughout the years of abandonment. 

 As we walk up the cobblestone pathway I instantly smell the unmistakable aroma of death. Metallic blood, forgotten skin and as if I can still hear them now the horrific screams and cries of torture. Before I know it my feet are carrying me to the doors and my arms are thrusting them open. Now my feet have stopped and my heart is pounding. T

he floor is covered in water and the walls are splattered with thick red bloodstains. There is a chandelier in the middle of the room and old pieces of furniture have been pushed to the outer skirts of the room. As I stand in bewilderment, with the others behind me sound makes me jump.

 A spotlight shines on a gramophone in the centre of the room. I stand in front of it and it starts to play. Instead of music all that comes out is a female voice. After a soft cough she begins to talk.

"You have come for Nutmeg, I know. She is waiting for you, you can take her. But in return, if one leaves one must take her place. One of you must stay forever."

With this last sentence I have a sharp intake of breathe and my body shudders. The gramophone shudders and with a cough of static and dies. In an instant Peter's arms are around me and his mouth is making word like motions but there is no sound coming out. There is a ringing in my ears and an aching headache racks my head. 

 One of us has to stay behind. 

 But who?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who do you think it will be? 

Tell me below and I will respond to as many as possible

Mozzie xx